


Behind closed doors

by EtoKai



Series: Hickies are made from broken skin [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Gen, Hallucinations, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Slash, RIP, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, a hint of shance, for now, give me prompts pls, i gave up on writing summaries, i'm getting better at action scenes, kudos if you find the pun!, set in season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:17:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11821074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoKai/pseuds/EtoKai
Summary: "Lance, I'm sorry! Are you alright?" Shiro frets over him, hand hovering over Lance's wrist. When he meets his eyes, they're filled with guilt and a gentle feeling Lance despises. He looks at him like he's made of glass, like he broke him and now has to ask permission to touch him. His wrist isn't even sprained!Lance proves that much by punching him.





	Behind closed doors

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those fic ideas i love but evb else hates XD ah love those:') it was supposed to be just 1k but then i edited in feelings and pov switches and some context and ended up rewriting this 3 times cuz i got carried away

Time seemed to be frozen inside the small room, an overlay of memories looping ceaselessly. Cold bodies moved in the silence of the night, dimmed lights casting an eerie aura over them and making them appear different from what they were.

Two practice drones baring the masks of bloodied beasts circled like predators around their summoner, a human hiding behind a mask bigger than himself.

Shiro was tired. They've been spending weeks under the illusion of safety, and he was stuck waiting for the pin to drop. It was exhausting, standing on guard while the others tried to lure him in a false sense of security. He knew by now, he was never, nor will he ever be, safe.

It took time, but he had stopped being afraid. The nightmares never left though, paranoia still pouring from every thought of his, and Shiro found himself taking refugee in the training room more often than not.

His thoughts snap back to the present as something heavy presses onto the floor creating a soft _thunk_ , the only warning he gets before a practice drone- monster with shining eyes and whip like appendages, sneering, taunting- jumps above him, bo swinging down .

Shiro- the Champion - drops onto one knee, bringing his Galran arm -not his, not _his_ \- to block the attack while bracing for the excess weight going into it.

The bo connects loudly with his arm- two weapons clashing- and Shiro is quick to shift his weight so one of his legs fly out and sweep the robot's legs from underneath itself.

With a hard pull, he pries its weapon from its fingers and makes it his. Arms moving in a wide arc, the bo connect with the practice druid- shape shifting monster- behind him, making its head fly across the room.

A third set of footsteps alert him of another enemy joining, and Shiro rounds around to stomp his boot hard on the fallen druid's head. It cracks satisfyingly under him, and its body turns into another lifeless heap of metal.

Shiro discards its former weapon and prepares his arm as the third druid approaches-

"Lance?" Shiro barely manages to stop his robotic hand centimeters away from the boy's ear, the appendage glowing a violent purple. It itches to finish its arc, but Shiro drops it to his side and the glow eventually subdues.

The spell is broken and Shiro finds himself out of the arena, alone -plus one- in a room covered by darkness. It happens so fast Shiro feels the whiplash in his body, suddenly so cold and wary. Lance looks ethereal before him, not belonging to his world.

Said boy smiles sheepishly at him, a hand coming up to rub at his ear either in a nervous manner or to check it's still there, he can't tell. " Hey, Shiro!" He greets cheerily as if it wasn't five in the morning.

A beat passes before Shiro turns his back, heading towards the refreshments section of the room. His brows furrow together as he wonders what's the blue paladin doing at this hour. Was there trouble? Was he here to spar? Or was he here for Shiro?

He buys himself time to school his features by gulping down a bottle of water and hanging a towel over his shoulders to wipe off his sweat. When he turns around, Lance's still hovering awkwardly in the middle of the room and Shiro takes his time looking him over. He's suited up- definitely here to spar.

"What are you doing here?" He asks anyway, after ordering the training sequence off in case any of the robots with AI got the bright idea of ambushing them.

Lance fidgets, twirling his thumbs anxiously before resolutely sticking his hands to his sides and looking at Shiro." I was wondering if you wanted some company?"

Shiro's eyebrows shot comically in his hairline at hearing this, before setting into a slight furrow. "So the get up is because you wanted to talk to me? I'm not gonna bite, Lance." Sure, they haven't talked much, but wearing armor just to talk to him seemed a bit over the top. Was it because he was kept in Galra captivity? Did Lance consider him dangerous?

Before his thoughts could take a darker turn, Lance waved his arms around as if to ward off all his assumptions and proceeds to trip over his words trying to explain. " No, no! I was just thinking you'd like to spar instead of talk. I know I can be really loud and obnoxious and I'd probably wake up the whole ship if we started talking now. In fact, I don't think I'd stop if I started and we'd be here all night, and that's really not what I want.  "

"Lance," Shiro gently stops his rambling and smiles reassuringly at the panicked look the paladin is giving him, "You're right. I'd love to talk some other time, but right now it would be nice to have a sparring partner." Shiro has fought Galra, has fought practice druids, but he's yet to fight any of his fellow teammates. 

Lance visibly relaxes at that, his shoulders snagging and arms coming up to cross over his chest. "Plus this is the the perfect time for me to improve my hand to hand combat skills."

Shiro laughs at the ridiculous postures the blue paladin makes, though he can't help the heaviness that settles in his chest. They don't know yet. The brutality of the war, the cold blooded feeling it takes to kill. But they will have to learn. The most he can do for now is prepare them.

A stray thought catches his attention and a smile curls his lips upward. "Grab a dagger."

"Why?' Lance questions, his brows coming together in confusion and his back straightening. " I already have my armor, which you don't. I don't need more of an advantage." He says indignantly, his bitter tone taking Shiro back. Did he think he was underestimating him?

"Lance, name someone you'd send alone to fight a fleet."

"Keith." Lance says without missing a beat, his eyes widening in realization a second later and hands coming up to clamp over his mouth at the deadpan look Shiro gives him.

"What I'm trying to say, " Shiro dips a bit of irritation in his voice, "is that you should know what you're facing and prepare accordingly. Plus, robot arm," He makes quotation marks with his hands as he says this, "Remember?"

"Ohhh, rightt." Lance nods in an exaggerated slow manner before shuffling over to the weapon section in the training room. There are various knives and pistols, plus other weapons he can't name, all of a stainless black. He picks one at random, ending up with a  medium-sized dagger with a slightly curved ending. He fiddles with it for a few moments before finding a comfortable grip, which is apparently wrong because Shiro frowns when he turns to him.

"Don't clench it. Your thumb goes over the handle, not around it. Not the blade." Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose before strolling over to him to reposition his fingers around the weapon. Lance is seriously having second thoughts as Shiro scolds him- explains, but knowing that doesn't stop his cheeks from burning from embarrassment. He easily towers over him, and he looks like he knows what he's doing compared to Lance. "That's it."

"Thanks." Lance squeaks out and Shiro steps back at hearing the distress in his teammate's voice. There's no way Lance can back down now so he widens his stance and experimentally moves his arm before nodding to himself. "I'm ready!"

Shiro lowers himself into a battle stance as well, all traces of worry replaced by single minded determination. Lance sees his eyes clouding , but the next moment they're clear again.

As his leader dives into battle, Lance can't find it in him to attack. He ducks and dodges with the flexibility of water, rolling and running away from the danger.

Before he knows it, Shiro has him backed in a corner, his eyes gleaming in time with his arm, swinging it down as Lance has no choice but to block. He does so with his free hand, but he underestimates the strength of the attack and his legs buckle underneath him.

Aiming his dagger upwards, Lance thrusts his arm forward. Shiro guards, connecting the back of his hand with Lance's wrist in a painful motion before twisting his arm to grip Lance's wrist and forcing the boy to bend over backwards.

Muscles straining, Lance cries out in pain as his dagger clatters uselessly on the ground. The grip releases him immediately afterwards, the worried sound of his leader replacing it.

"Lance, I'm sorry! Are you alright?" Shiro frets over him, hand hovering over Lance's wrist. When he meets his eyes, they're filled with guilt and a gentle feeling Lance despises. He looks at him like he's made of glass, like he _broke_ him and now has to ask permission to touch him. His wrist isn't even sprained!

Lance proves that much by punching him.

Shiro looks stunned as he takes a few feet back, a hand forming a cup under his chin as blood drips from his nostrils.

"I'm coming." Lance warns, taking a step forward. Shiro's eyes move rapidly, but when he calls his name they focus back on his body. "Watch me," he instructs, and Shiro nods.

Lance falls back into a fighting stance and waits for Shiro to join him, waiting a tick before gray eyes meet his and Shiro mirrors his movement, keeping his eyes glued to his. "Lance." He whispers to himself as if confirming his presence.

The fight resumes and Lance feels pride as his dagger cuts through the air and takes Shiro by surprise. It nips at his skin teasingly before Shiro sends him sprawling with a kick to his knees. He doesn't seem disturbed in the slightest by the wound, in fact he looks _ecstatic_.

Shiro wants this. He _needs_ this.

Blood pumping through his veins, Shiro feels more alive than ever. Lance remains in front of him- his teammate, his companion, his ally. For once, his opponent is the one who pulls him to his world, and Shiro feels _real_.

Lance gets up just as Shiro advances on him, narrowly avoiding another kick. He takes a second to regain his composure before pushing forward as well, no longer dodging but letting Shiro's punches and kicks connect with him as he merely redirected his blows. The armor provided enough shock absorption for that, and Shiro looked more excited than ever, so they continued like that.

It was a couple of blows after that things turned sour. Lance was becoming more and more confident in his blows, practically chasing Shiro's body with them. Each step his leader took back, he took forth, coming close enough that their breaths mingled before Shiro would manage to put distance between them. They danced around each other, then _with_ each other, struggling against the burn of their muscles to prologue the inevitable.

Their fight was nearing the end and Lance felt frustration bubble in his chest at the fact that he had yet to land a solid blow. Sure, he kept up, but that was only because of his added advantage.

Gripping his weapon, Lance aimed to _maim_. Shiro grabbed his elbow before he could, pulling him forward to complete his body's trajectory as he slammed his knee into his stomach.

The pain was sharp, cutting straight through the amour's protection unlike the echoes of the blow he'd been feeling, and making his insides twist painfully as air fled his lungs. It made Lance realize how overpowered he was, bile rising in his throat from both the realization and the strike.

In a fit of desperation, he twisted the dagger in his hold, splitting skin and fat into Shiro's side. Lance didn't even register at first, lunging for his weapon. Just as his fingers coiled around the handle- his grip clumsy from the sweat- Shiro stopped him.

"That's enough."

Lance winces, making an aborted motion as he lets the dagger slip from his grip. He coughs harshly, curling onto himself and pressing his hands firmly against his abdomen as he struggles to regain his breath.

Plop.

Shiro ignores the wound to his side as he crouches next to Lance, rubbing comforting circles onto his back as he whispers soothing words. "That's it, Lance. Breathe. You'll be alright. Can you stand for me? I need to make sure the armor isn't broken and piercing your stomach." Shiro grimaces at that thought. For the first time in a while, Shiro's had control during the battle. He isn't sure if he could live with himself if he hurt Lance.

Plop.

Lance focuses on Shiro's voice to ground him, craning his neck to see him. His eyes widen as they're faced with a puddle of blood, quickly tracing it back to Shiro. He hurt him! He got carried away and went to far, he fucked up, he hurt him he hurt him he hurt he hurt-

Shiro feels his heart plummet to the ground and shatter as Lance sucks air sharply and goes into a choking fit, renewing his efforts at comforting him as he glues himself to his side. He's going to be alright, they have the best technology a human could hope for in this castle, everything was going to be just fine.

"Come on," Shiro leads Lance into a sitting position, instructing him to straighten his back and place his arms behind him as he looks him over.

Lance meanwhile, gets a full view of the damage he's caused. He got Shiro in the left hip, ripping through his black tank top and drenching it with blood. There's a lot of it, falling down in a steady stream. If he wasn't so eager to prove himself, nothing like this would've happened. He wants to apologize, but he chokes on a sob instead. Too ashamed and guilt ridden, Lance hangs his head down. The least he could do now was stay out of Shiro's way.

Shiro is standing kneeled between Lance's legs, hands gliding over his body as he pushes and prods at his armor to ensure everything is in one piece and functioning. Nothing seems out of place, so he turns to his stomach, feeling for any dips underneath his bodysuit. Lance makes a soft sound when he reaches his middle, but is quickly muffled. He's been uncharacteristically quiet during the inspection and when Shiro looks up he can see him biting his lip. Shiro presses down on the tender spot again and Lance scrunches his face up in pain, but he keeps silent.

Lance quietly breathes a sigh of relief when Shiro looks away from his face and doesn't say anything. The gentle feeling of hands caressing his body returns and Lance's sure his cheeks are seconds from catching fire at this point. He glances down and- yep, he's definitely hard. Adrenaline boners, am I right? He's got nothing to be embarrassed about, after all Shiro's got one too, albeit for different reasons. God, he's horrible.

"You know, I could help you with that." Lance's words snap Shiro back from his thoughts. Once he felt what tender flesh was like, Shiro easily detected the rest of the wounds. He left a considerable amount of bruises, even if he can't tell their severity as Lance didn't offer any indication of being in pain. He's doing a impeccable job of hiding his pain, and Shiro takes a mental note to go easy on him on their team's next training session.

"Huh?" Shiro makes a sound to show him he heard as he keeps scanning for wounds. Even with the horrible stomachache, Shiro's hands are doing wonders to him. That is until they dip into another one of his bruises. It's like they have detectors built within them , as they linger there. Maybe his Galran arm actually does, who knows?

"The wound, I mean. It's bleeding all over the floor, can't imagine that's a good thing." Lance looks pointedly away from his leader's scrutinizing gaze, biting hard on the inside of his cheeks before he can offer anything else.

"..Alright," Shiro agrees after a few moments, shifting so his wound would be within Lance's reach. His fingers touch his skin tentatively, and Shiro momentarily wonders if Lance will back down.

Lance doesn't, curling his body over his as he slides his hand over the shredded top and naked skin before coming to a stop on the wound. It's warm and his fingers immediately sink into blood, but Lance battles his discomfort and presses down. "I'm sorry," he chokes out. "I didn't mean for it to get this far, I-"

"Shh," Shiro interrupts, a feeling between discomfort and warmth swirling in his belly at hearing him apologize. "I let it get this far, it's not your fault."

"..."

"I'm not going to hold it against you for getting a one up on me, Lance." Lance doesn't look convinced, but at least he raised his eyes to look at him, so he pushes on. "Plus, I don't mind it. Pain is- well blood, it's-" Shiro struggles to put it into words, eventually giving up when a yawn splits his face.

"Come on, tough guy, let's get you to bed." Lance chuckles, then lapsing into silence as they cross the hallways.

Lance's hand remains over the wound, Shiro slinging an arm over his shoulder for support. Lance suspects he's more tired than wounded, as he's dragging his feet rather than hobbling.

"We're not going to the pods?" Lance asks when they take a turn on the wrong hallway.

"It's not as bad as it looks." Shiro gives him a strained smile that tells him not to push. "Besides, you're not going either."

"Fair enough." Lance shrugs in response. He would prefer not to go to the pods either if he was Shiro, though he knows he doesn't share his claustrophobia. What was the reason then? No matter what, he's relieved his leader doesn't feel the need to resort to that machine for a wound _he_ had caused.

They stop in front of their rooms, Lance fidgeting in place while Shiro remains where he had stopped dead in his tracks. Lance is prepared to make his exit when a hand grips his wrist- something that's becoming worryingly normal, dude, just hold my hand please and thank you- keeping his hand pressed on the wound, and pulls him past his bedroom and into Shiro's.

"I can't do the stitching on my own." Shiro explains as he leaves Lance by the doorway before disappearing behind the en-suite bathroom's door.

Lance swallows his nerves down at that, taking the opportunity to look over Shiro's bedroom. It's simplistic, probably due to his Japanese origins and the time he spent in Galra captivity, with only a few sets of clothing which Lance can see through the closet's doors. His armor is set in a neat pile besides his bed, within arm reach unlike Lance's. Just as he's about to rule his room out as having no personal touch, Lance sees a withering flower on his nightstand, which he recognizes it as being from one of the planets they had freed.

Shiro emerges back from the bathroom without a top, but with a first aid kit and a towel. He drapes it over his bed before plopping down on it, making its use known as he reveals his -now cleaned- wound and wipes the blood off his hand on the white cloth.

"You should go wash your hands, " Shiro says when he notices Lance hadn't moved from his spot yet.

"Err, right!"

Lance stitching is methodical, not stopping once he's started until he's tied the knot. All the while he's chatting away about anything and everything under the stars, and Shiro doesn't even notice he's done until the tale ends.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! Make me sad and you end up with 100 discontinued works and 1 one-shot:')
> 
> If you have requests for this series, please shoot! Any idea works or you can simply tell me one episode from first season you'd like to see and I'll try my best to deliver ^^


End file.
